


Ten long years ago

by sugarandhoneytea



Series: Wanderpark (AU) [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Christophe is talked about alot but does not appear, Description of sticky textures (slime), Gregory is a trainwreck, M/M, Mentions of the smell of smoke, Pre-canon wanderpark, mentioned character death (non graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarandhoneytea/pseuds/sugarandhoneytea
Summary: Gregory feels awful as usual and can't sleep, so he thinks of Christophe.
Relationships: Christophe "The Mole"/Gregory of Yardale
Series: Wanderpark (AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698439
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Ten long years ago

The screaming was the worst of it.

Gregory had lived a rather good life despite the brevity. He'd rebelled against unfair treatment of others, assassinated a rich man once, and even took part in a war. He was sent to hell, but was taken to the Gardens of the Lost, a place where souls too good for hell went when they were not mormon. With permission from his old friend Damien, He'd spent the past ten years searching for his best friend Christophe. They'd been friends since childhood, living right next door to each other. But with each year and each failure, restlessness began to settle in.

A restless soul became a demon, and their voice was added to the ever-noisy hivemind of souls who either couldn't find their peace, or were never buried. Gregory had died isolated from the rest of the world, so it was only natural he'd become a Restless too. He couldn't care less about the sticky, heavy black globs of goo that dripped from his eyes, nor about the headache his horns brought when they came in. The screaming was terrible, endless and mind-meltingly painful.

Gregory was accommodated with a room that had a fireplace in the Palace, where maids came in regularly to shovel in dried tobacco to fuel the fire. How funny, it was, that the acidic smell of cigarettes was the only thing that kept him calm enough to even attempt to sleep. He didn't feel up to it at the moment, so he rested his head against the highest puff of his tail and let his mind drift away.

How angry would Christophe be? That he'd failed to find him after all this time. Likely very... He'd checked the feilds of the Tormented, where souls who've earned their stay in hell go, the depths of Tartarus, where ancient souls were sent, the Gardens of Heroes, for people so good their sole failing was the incorrect religion, and even the Islands of the Loyal, where Satanists go in death. No sign of him.

Ah...

And then there was the other matter. Ten years ago, Gregory had promised himself to tell Christophe he loved him, after they'd returned from the war. Morbidly humorous enough, Gregory had been literally shot down before he had the chance. Now it was beginning to look like he would never have that chance... And perhaps there would never have been any chance at all from the start. Christophe was always a blunt and grumpy individual, but always responded to Gregory's playful flirting with insults or ignoring him. And if Gregory recalled correctly, Christophe's mother was very against homosexuality, so there was a chance that Gregory had been in love with a straight man this whole time.

The little moth demon maid, Ara, fluttered in to shovel in more dried tobacco, before fluttering back out. Ah, that god-awful stench that made the screaming quiet down...

Speaking of quiet, it was midnight already. Gregory just settled in for the night, covering himself with the soft wool blankets, and tried not to cry himself to sleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work for my Wanderpark Au (It has a blog on tumblr of the same name if anyone reading this would like to see it)


End file.
